


Revenge

by darkwingduckie7



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Bloodplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:32:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkwingduckie7/pseuds/darkwingduckie7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Cyberwoman. What happens when a broken, angry, grieving Ianto collides with a broken, angry, destructive Jack. It is not pretty; very dark and violent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ on June 5th, 2012.
> 
> I marked this as rape/non-con just to be on the safe side with warnings but it is more of a dub-con situation.This is a very dark!fic, probably the darkest thing I have ever written so far. Also (another warning), the Captain is immortal and Ianto, well, is Ianto; playing with blood like the characters do in this fic is unsafe.

He hugged his knees, head bent down in resignation as the cell walls closed in around him making the space in his lungs tighter as his breaths came out in short gasps. Cheeks stained with tear tracks dried long ago, he held on tightly to the last remnants of his tattered and bloody suit.

His love was dead, gone… killed by that monster.  
He never knew he could hate as much as he hated him right now. As much as he always would hate that man, no, not man, but vicious creature. He’d hate him for the rest of his life even if his life lasted for the next five minutes only.

It radiated through his very soul and set his entire body aflame. Pure unadulterated hatred burned the humanity within him.

He didn’t care anymore what that fiend, that freak would do to him. Death would be a welcome relief. His heart and soul were already dead; the remnants of their glowing ambers scorching his skin.

He feared retcon. He didn’t want to live oblivious to his love for her and his hate for him. He swore to himself that even then he’d find a way to join her in death. Surely he’d remember her in the afterlife.

Her pure white soul would heal his… the innocence that made up her very essence before being tainted by metal and circuits, before the winds of the hurricane stripped her virtue bare. She’d be whole and waiting to heal his tattered remains.

She was his humanity; his salvation.

He heard loud footsteps down the corridor and prepared to meet his executioner. He refused to cry or show fear in the face of death; only hatred.

As the footsteps became louder Ianto lifted his body with the last remnants of his strength standing tall and proud. Fire burned in his eyes even though his vacant mask slotted into place. He’d die with dignity.

Jack’s face appeared through the glass, unreadable, but his eyes shone with fury and guilt and pain. Ianto flinched from the intensity of that gaze alone. He knew Jack saw this moment of weakness and would exploit it to its fullest. Terror gripped him as he realized his death would be slow and painful. Everything he deserved; anything to end up wrapped up in her untainted essence again.

Silence draped around them like cotton wool binding them numbly to the piece of dilapidated concrete on which they stood. Time became meaningless as it drifted around their still bodies as if waiting for permission to continue its flow again.

A Weevil wail from down the hall cut, like a knife, through the wall. Jack blinked and pressed buttons of his wrist strap; the cell door clicked.

The maelstrom of emotions whirled around Ianto as he closed his eyes waiting for death…

Silence.

The intensity of the stifled air made his head swim and he was lost in a swirl of color as every drop of water slowly trickling down the brick walls pounded excruciating into his brain. Slowly his eyes opened and focused on the intense ocean blues piercing into the shredded leftover scraps of his soul.

His own fiery gaze razed the Captain’s defenses and the monster flinched.

Good, let us both burn.

Jack gripped the cell door, knuckles white, and opened it slowly as it squeaked not once breaking the blistering eye contact. His voice growled low, “I am the only thing standing between you and the door to freedom, Ianto Jones.”

Lifting his arms shoulder wide showing the belt around his waist and the empty gun holster he continued speaking as he laced ice into every syllable, “I’m unarmed. You said you wanted to see me suffer and die. Well, here is your chance. Get passed me and out the door and I guarantee you freedom.”

There had to be a catch. There was always a catch. But his brain muddled, Ianto couldn’t even form a thought to ask questions much less get any words past his dry throat. He wondered if Jack really meant about giving him his freedom if he managed to fight his way out and then laughed and laughed…

... and laughed.

There was no way out. Jack wanted to get his hands dirty with his death and he would oblige. After all, painful and slow started to have its appeal.

Before he even knew his body moved his hands were wrapped around the monster’s throat choking the other man. Beautiful gurgling noises escaped those perfect lips as Ianto slammed him against the opposite wall, the head making a sweet cracking noise against the moist bricks.

He watched the dazzling eyes glaze over as his fingers dug in deeper into the supple flesh. He wanted Jack to watch the hatred smoldering through him as the Captain’s life drained away, slowly.

His vision a whirled around him, his brain rattled in his head as it smacked the bricks hard. Surprised, a pained moan escaped his lips as his fingers lost traction. The Captain’s body held him hard against the wall as he tried to flail randomly in a disappointing attempt to fight back.

Vision cloudy, he thought he saw a smirk on that insufferable face and he wanted, no, needed, to punch it away. With nothing or everything to lose depending on how he looked at things, he hit Jack’s forehead with his already cracked skull.

The other man must not have expected such a bold move because he stumbled back in shock. Uncaring about his life or death anymore, Ianto’s fists rained down onto Jack’s abdomen and head. Blow after blow, Ianto’s vision almost black but he continued his diatribe with unhampered fury behind every strike.

The Captain fell to the ground beaten blue and purple; blood painted his beautiful body as it gushed out in waves. Ianto stopped to perversely admire his exquisite work of art.

Drained after the initial explosion of flames a moment of sanity hit and he started to run toward the door. Toward… freedom? Or just another death?

A hand gripped his ankle and he plunged head first into the concrete floor with a deafening crack. Blood pouring out of his head as the world spun again, the final thread between life and death, love and hate, sanity and madness finally snapped.

This was it, this was his death.

His body was flipped over like a piece of meat on the grill as he lay flaccid and drooling under the crushing weight of the Captain.

A dam broke and silent tears flowed like a strong current out with the tide washing the ashes of his heart, soul, and body… leaving behind utter nothingness. Gentle fingers stroked his cheek brushing the salty liquid, snot, and blood away. The soft warmth on his skin felt hard and unbearable. He would welcome more pain, he would welcome death. But not this…

Not this kindness…

Not this tenderness…

Not this care…

He screamed out his misery and sorrow as he pushed the body back with all his strength. He needed ruthless violence.

Either he or Jack or both would die this day.

His sanity long gone he pinned down the Captain underneath him.

Blood flowing swiftly through his veins the needed to hurt, to damage, overwhelmed his every sense. He wrapped his long, pale fingers around the throat again as the body beneath him rubbed against his as it struggled to breathe.

The skin beneath the tattered remains of the shirt called out to him. With his other hand, he clawed with his blood stained fingers marring the flesh, ripping the shirt to get at it. Nothing else existed except for the overwhelming desire to defile this perfect body. His breaths escaped in harsh bursts as he realized he’d been rutting his hard cock against Jack’s shuddering form.

His entire world narrowed to only the sensations produced by the man below him. With every strangled gurgling attempt at breathing he held the monster’s life in his hands. He leaned down to bite hard at the already swollen lips tasting coppery blood, bitter sweat, salty tears, and… something so utterly extraordinary and sweet that he plunged his tongue inside needing more.

Something at the back of his brain screamed to stop, that this wasn’t right, but a deeper need, something primal and animalistic, had taken over and he was completely lost to it. A possessive growl escaped his lips and he needed to own, dominate, this cyclone of life and death around them as it spun out of control.

On automatic his hands fumbled with Jack’s belt buckle before quickly dragging the pants down to the man’s knees, the buttons popped from the sheet violence of the act. He dragged his bloody fingers over the perfect thighs watching them be defiled with every stroke.

He needed to destroy the beautiful vessel hiding the monster underneath. With a ferocious snarl he flipped the man below him onto his stomach; kneading his bloody fingers onto the Captain’s arse cheeks; he painted swirls of red on the slippery sweat and grime covered behind.

Pheromones broke through the barrier and invaded his every cell as he inhaled each ragged breath; he breathed in deeply. Completely out of control of his own body he tore at the remnants of his trousers digging out his hard erection already leaking pre-come heavily. His balls felt like led weights dragging him down into Hell.

He swiped sticky blood off his chest and shoved two fingers roughly into his Captain. Nothing else existed except this moment, possibly his last, and he just needed to degrade and besmirch with his hatred.

With only a few thrusts, he withdrew his fingers and after collecting more blood pouring from his own body he covered his hard cock with the make-shift lubricant. Within seconds he was buried balls deep within the warm, tight channel. The scorching, tight walls burned right through his dick.

The walls between pleasure and pain fell as he pounded ruthlessly into the body beneath him. With each unrestrained stroke, he abandoned the last flickering ambers of his annihilated soul; the last flames extinguished the moment he came. It was like electrocution, anguished and divine, as he shuddered uncontrollably.

Exhausted and drained he collapsed on top of the quivering body beneath him, mind completely blank.

Moments passed, neither man attempted to move; Ianto’s flaccid cock still lay inside the limp body beneath him.

Silence.

Peace.

Suddenly, the storm of emotions hit and Ianto, horrified from what he’d done, scrambled of off Jack’s body and curled up into himself in the corner. No, he didn’t just… oh God, he just raped his boss. His entire body shivering Ianto started at the defiled man with vacant eyes.

He watched as Jack lifted himself up, fastened up his trousers, and turned toward him with a… _what the hell?_ Ianto’s eyes opened wide from shock.

An amused smirk appeared on Jack’s mangled face and he chuckled as blood flowed freely from the many gashes on his lips. Gazing back at Ianto he spoke in an over-cheerful tone, “Feel better?”

Ianto’s mind reeled as he couldn’t understand what the fuck just occurred.

“Now that you got that out of your system, take a shower, change your clothes, go home, and then be back here first thing tomorrow morning for work. The Rift won’t monitor itself.”

With that Jack departed leaving the door wide open behind him.

As Ianto’s mind tried to catch up with the events, sobs started to wreck his body. Tears flowed freely as he tasted a mix of saline and copper. Jack deliberately baited him and he bit like a ravenous little guppy. The brutal fight, the vicious fuck… it was all a fucked up charade, Jack’s manipulation. If Jack wanted revenge then this was it, this was worse than death and retcon combined.

Torchwood was fucked up. Its Captain was fucked up.

He was fucked up.

The sobs turned into a hysterical laughter.

He betrayed the woman he loved, deceived his Captain, murdered (although indirectly) two people, beat and fucked his boss bloody, and then was left unrestrained and… _free?_

Well, fuck.

He could run, disappear completely. The plans he made to vanish once Lisa was cured still remained valid. He had been careful, meticulous, and took care of every detail. They’d never find him.

Or he could walk out and kill himself.

But the fire was gone. He was empty.

The frantic laughter stopped as his body froze completely. Silence echoed through the dungeon-like halls of Torchwood. In the stillness an uncanny peace washed over him.

He rose from the floor shedding the remnants of his bloodied clothes and dignity. He was too tired to run… hide… live… love… or even hate anymore. He’d take a shower, change into the clothes in his locker, go home… and then punctually return to work tomorrow.

He was too broken to fit anywhere else; he belonged here with all the other monsters.


End file.
